


Liebestod

by zicova



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, References to Paradise Lost, Samifer - Freeform, everyone's a bit OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8594200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zicova/pseuds/zicova
Summary: In which Sam Winchester finally has to face Satan and it's worse than he thought.Because there can be no love without death.





	1. The Devil beneath my feet

**Author's Note:**

> [Liebestod](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pg_EHUGRgos) is a German word for love-death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lucifer had been glorious once.

He had been the most beautiful angel, God's favourite. Everyone longed for him.

Even when in war with his Father his light was not lost.

Lucifer ascended in his sun bright-chariot, Cherubims surrounded him with their golden shields aflame. The shout of battle was all around them, overwhelming Heaven itself; angels were ready to kill their brothers in the name of their cause.

The veil of the sky was covering the Host with his fading light, and Lucifer was ready.

He advanced through his army fierce and strong armed in adamant and gold.

He was so strong, so divine that most of the angels still loyal to Him couldn't take it.

They cried while their brother was coming for them, because even out of the loving Grace of their Father, even if he was destined to fall, he was still the brightest angel of all. He had the light of the Highest inside him.

 

Once, Lucifer had been all this.

Now, millions of years later, his ankles are burning, because the shackles are too tight.

His wrists, chained up behind his back, are bruised; the skin's a light shade of purple.

All of his bones are aching after being sat on the floor, on the same spot, every hours of every day. He doesn't really know how much times he has spent like this.

His mouth is dry and can taste blood coming out of his teeth sometimes.

His prison is dark, but nothing like the Cage; it's dark like his first night in Heaven after the Fall. He cannot sense or see a thing because he's not used to have human senses.

Or to have a human body. That's why sometimes he has to stay a few hours in a pool of his own piss.

He doesn't know where he is, or why. All he knows is that one of his fallen brother sometimes would come, clean his urine and feed him. He talks to him, in Enochian. His name is Castiel.

He doesn't ask questions; he can't bring himself to. Would Castiel answer him?

He can't remember much else. Focusing is difficult.

All he does is wait. For what, it's difficult to say.

He waits, humming in silence the only thing he remembers.

“Fam-Un-Tal”.

His voice is raw, because he never had one.

How he wish he could have his real voice now, so he could sing like he used to with his brother.

“Fam-Un-Tal”.

Lucifer doesn't know yet, but that name means something in humans language.

The name, which is his sole memory after the Cage, is _Sam._

 

 

 

It all started a month back, when Castiel began ignoring Dean's calls.

The one and only time he picked up, his tone was so flat (more than usual) Dean instantly knew something was wrong.

“Dude, it's been two weeks since the last time we saw him” he grumbled to Sam.

And Sam sighed, like every time his brother would try to complain to him about their friend. “I'm starting to think that you're the one with personal space issues”.

“I'm serious” he replied, more irritated than before. “He's acting strange again, I feel it”.

“I thought you trusted him now”.

Eyes-roll. “I do trust him, Sam, but that's not the point”.

“Dean, if you really trusted Cass, you would not be doing this drama now” Sam closed an old Man of Letter's report and went to the kitchen. “Maybe he's up to something, but it doesn't have to be bad, you know”.

Dean remained on the doorstep, arms crossed on his chest and gaze on the floor. After a few seconds of intense thinking, he snorted and dropped the argument.

But it wasn't over.

Since Castiel wouldn't answer the phone he started to pray, because he was sure prayers were much more annoying than a ringtone.

“ _What the fuck are you doing man?”_

“ _I pray to the lord-of-the-asses Castiel to answer my friggin' calls”_.

“ _Cass? Are you even tuned in?”_

“ _You know, if you ever need help, whatever it is... I'm here”_.

Maybe it was the last one that convinced the angel and the next day Castiel broke the silence.

It was six in the morning when Dean's phone rang.

He grabbed it, nearly letting it slip from his hand, and answered with his eyes still closed. “Who’s talking?”

“Dean”.

He sat quickly on his bed, waking up completely. “Cass” he spitted out, “are you okay?”

He heard the angel sigh on the phone. “Yes, yes I am”. He was talking low; Dean could almost see him in his mind, with the little mobile tight on his face, his breath warm on it. “But I have a problem”.

“How big?”

“Huge” he whispered. Then “Dean, I don't want to involve you and Sam, but I have no one that can help me”.

“Where are you?”

“Three hours from Lebanon. Do you still have the chains with the sigils in your dungeon?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. “Yes? Wha- Castiel, what are you bringing us?”

“Tell Sam to add the third angel sigil on page one-hundred sixty four to the second column” he said, and Dean heard Cass was starting to move around. “He knows”.

“Yeah, whatever” Dean hanged up. “Damn geeks”.

 

 

 

 

Sam was worried. And excited. But more worried.

Castiel had asked him to add a specific sigil in their dungeon that was known to block an angel's ability to fly. It was very complex. He had spent twenty minutes to carve it into the wall and an extra half an hour for the shackles but it was done.

He didn't know that there were still angels with their wings intact after the Big Fall. Maybe Castiel had found one, and that's why he seemed so panicked to Dean. Maybe he didn't expect it, too.

Dean surely didn't. He was pacing the bunker, while drinking coffee and mumbling to himself.

At least now he understood why Castiel had be ignoring him; he was just protecting them. Not that Dean wanted to be protected, but he appreciated it, even if he wouldn't say it.

He had a hard time trusting Castiel again after all the things that had happened in the past. They were all moving on; slowly, but still together. Still a family.

Cass arrived at nine o'clock. Always so punctual.

They went down in the garage while he was parking his car, stolen who knows where. It was a hippie little van with green flowers on the sides.

“Morning, Lennon” Dean had said, gazing at it.

Castiel got out of the car, slamming shut the door. He looked so tired, even with his Grace restored and all. “This” he pointed the van “was the most convenient for the trip. I hate the flowers”.

“So, what did you brought us today?” Dean said, while Sam smiled a bit. “One of your brothers? Sisters? Cupids?”

Cass looked at him gravely. He passed a hand through his hair, a habit he picked up from Dean, and then “it is indeed one of my brothers” told them. “One I never met before”. He went to the back of the van and opened the doors. “I'll take him to the dungeon”.

“Is he dangerous?” Sam asked. “I mean, more than a normal angel”.

“My brothers told me so, but it was so long ago”.

They watched as Castiel dragged out an unconscious man and placed him on his shoulders like he weighed nothing. He had chains around his hands and ankles. He looked like a normal man in his thirties or forties maybe, with dirty blond hair. He had some blood scattered around his closed eyes and he looked so pale. Surely it was a vessel, but a really messed up one.

Castiel started walking and the brothers followed without saying a word. Even Dean was silent.

Cass's seriousness was alarming him. Was this angel really this dangerous? He seemed liked a badly beaten up man to him.

The lights of the dungeon flickered when they entered. Even the air stank down there.

The room was empty, except for the shackles and the chains attached to the cold floor, covered with dust. There were lot of sigils carved on both the floors and walls.

Castiel laid the man down, starting to chain him up. Sam looked at him more closely.

“Why are his sweatpants wet?” he asked, noticing the spot on his groin.

“He pissed himself”, replied Cass.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “Cass” Dean began, like he was talking to a child, coming closer. “Angels don't piss themselves”.

“I know”.

“Humans do”.

“Or angels with little Grace left”.

“So why the fuck is this dude so important?” he snapped. “You gotta explain it to us, you know”.

Castiel sighed, checking the sigils on the shackles again. The man still unconscious. Cass turned around and gazed at the two brothers.

“Dean, Sam” he began gravelly, his mouth twisted in a sad expression, “this is my brother, Lucifer”.

 

 

 

 

Sam never drank tea. Never.

And if he did, it means that something bad had happened. Like now.

It took just a single name to explain everything to them: Lucifer.

He passed a hand through his hair, while holding the warm cup with the other.

Sam knew who Lucifer was: Satan, the Antagonist, the Devil.

And he was sure that Lucifer knew who Sam was; his vessel.

He had feared this day would come, that Lucifer would have escaped from his Cage and searched for him. Years ago, the angels had warned them.

He could still hear Zachariah’s voice explaining to him and Dean their fate: to be the human containers for the two most powerful archangels in all of Heaven. And Hell, at this point.

Michael and Lucifer.

The first sure had persecuted them, trying to convince Dean to let go, to be his vessel and finally accept his destiny. At the same time they had to stop demons and Knights of Hell before they could have the chance to break Lucifer free.

It had been hard, and it had scarred them in a way that will never leave them. But they succeeded. Lucifer never got out of his Cage.

At least, not until now.

 

Dean was panicking, but he didn't want Sam to know it.

And he was so fucking pissed with Castiel for having brought that thing inside their bunker, their home. Exactly where Sam was.

How could he not understood in how much danger he had put his brother in?

Dean had been in the same danger years ago, until they killed Lilith and the plan of the Apocalypse was definitely aborted. Now Michael was in Heaven, directing the Host and leaving Dean in peace because he didn't need him anymore.

Something that Dean had learned about Michael in the brief time he had known him, was that he hated humans. He appreciated Earth because it was God's perfect and last creation, but since it was populated by the “hairless ape”, he didn't want to have anything to do with it.

Now, to Dean's joy, Michael had to suck it up and be the new boss. That's why it was rare to see angels walking free; most of them started to hate being in a vessel.

Castiel never had the choice to return, of course; after the big mess with the Leviathans, Purgatory and Metratron, he was not welcome any more. Not that he didn't want to stay with the Winchester.

They were a family and the bunker was his home, too.

And now he had fucked it up. _Again_.

He looked at Sam with the corner of his eye. His brother sat in one of the kitchen's stools, a red cup tight in his hands, biting his lower lip with a worried expression.

Dean knew he was scared; he would be too. Knowing he was Satan's vessel had already been a shock for him. They had worked a lot to make Sam understand that it wasn't his fault, that he was not evil. It was in their bloodline and that's all. It didn't really have something to do with them, right? He needed to think about it like this, he needed _Sam_ to think this way.

But to have the source of all their problems they had in their lives, to have an angel in the bunker after the whole Gadreel thing, to have friggin' Satan in their home, even if weakened, was too much.

Sam was gazing at him like he wanted to say something but first he wonder whether it would piss Dean off or not. Dean already know where his mind was going.

“Don't be mad with him, please”.

_And here we are_.

“Sam...”

“No, listen” he stood up, leaving the half-empty cup on the counter, “I know you're worried about me, I know and I understand. I am scared too” he admitted. “But Cass is alone”.

“He shouldn't even have thought about it” Dean hissed, lowering his voice, “He knew the risks of bringing him here and did it anyway!”

“What would you have done in his place then?” Sam snorted.

“I would have fucking killed him on the spot and leave!”

“Because that's how we work, right? We kill everything that moves. Got it”.

“We are talking about the Devil here, Sam!” he couldn't understand how his brother was thinking. “Are you serious?!”

“It's his brother!” Sam underlined, even if he was feeling a bit uneasy. Was he really defending Lucifer?

Dean looked at him like he was crazy, his mouth open and his eyes big, full of rage. He threw his hands in the air and walked out of the kitchen. “I can't believe this!”

Sam sighed. Dean was right, obviously, but he just couldn't bring himself to be angry with Castiel. It would have ended this way even if Cass had decided not to bring Lucifer; he would have told Dean about his “problem” and bringing him in the bunker would have been the only solution.

Castiel had told them that two weeks ago, while investigating some omens, he had felt something, like a terrible force had been unleashed and felt attracted to it like a magnet. “It reminded me of Father” he had told them, sad.

Following it, he had ended up in a house where he had found Nick's corpse (that was the name of the vessel apparently) passed out in a nursery, with lots of blood on the carpet.

And that's when he had recognized Lucifer's Grace. “He was so weak I barely felt it...”

He had insisted that he wasn't a danger but he couldn't just had leaved him walking free. That he couldn't have got out of the Cage by himself. There was a bigger plan behind his freedom.

“I just need time to think about what to do with him, please” he had pleaded.

And Sam knew Dean was being a bitch about it, but he had already accepted.

“But I ain't cleaning his fucking piss!”

 

 

 

Lucifer awakened that same night, after two weeks of unconsciousness.

The first three days Castiel had been the only one going down in the dungeon. Every time he asked Sam to prepare something to eat and, with a bucket and two sandwiches in his long hands, he would vanish for at least an hour.

Cass said he talked to him, that Lucifer spoke only Enochian but that he could insert English language in his mind with his Grace.

“He doesn't understand well the whole situation but-” he fell silent for a second. “But he's not what I thought he would be”.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked him. “You expected horns?”.

Castiel ignored him. “He's calm. Too calm. He looks... sedated” he licked his lips, thinking. “If I could think of Lucifer as the human he almost is, I would say that he's depressed”.

 

 

 

The night of the third day, Lucifer started chanting.

Sam startled out of his light sleep, checking the clock on his wall. Four in the morning.

He quickly got out of his room, the voice now stronger in his head. Fam-Un-Tal. It reminded him of the time Crowley had tortured Samandriel, the grave voice of the angel repeating the commands of Heaven.

Fam-Un-Tal.

A shiver went down his spine. He almost didn't see Castiel and his brother running towards him in the corridor.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean snapped. He was only in his blue boxers, Ruby's knife in his hand. “Where is your gun?”

Sam looked at him, confused, and then at his hands. His gun was still under the pillow.

He was unarmed. He would have never went to face a possible danger unarmed.

But still, he noticed, he didn't felt in danger. He started to lose concentration on reality. He could still hear the voice and there was nothing else in his mind.

He _had_ to go down in the dungeon. It was like he was being summoned. He _needed_ to find him.

“What the fuck is happening?” Dean asked Castiel, seeing that his brother was lost in his thoughts. “Is this a spell?”

Castiel shook his head, then closed his eyes and inspired. When he reopened them, they were full of tears. “It's like a hymn. He's just repeating a name”. His brothers in Heaven had often told him this was the effect of Lucifer's voice, even confined in a vessel. But he never thought it would affect him.

“Cas?” Dean called him, worried. “What's the name?”

The angel sighed, tears still falling.

“Sam” he whispered. “The name is Sam”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_..don't want your God and His higher power_

_want power to get higher_

_i'm not allowed_

_when you look up,_

_what do you see?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beta for this work is [cutiealy33](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiealy33/pseuds/cutiealy33) (thank you again!). My native language is Italian and she helped me a lot!  
> I wrote many Supernatural fan fictions but I wanted to post this one first. I'm such a Paradise Lost nerd and I thought it would be cool to combine both Lucifer.  
> The story is slightly different from the show's (like Sam never fell into the Cage) for writing purposes.  
> The title of every chapter is a Marilyn Manson's song. Here you can find [The Devil beneath my feet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdj5sQx4C08).  
> Hope you liked it!


	2. You and me and the devil makes 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever wondered how an obsession begins?

“Cass...”

“I have to search for answers Dean and I can't do it if I'm stuck here!”

It's the fourth day since Lucifer has been brought to the Winchesters.

Dean's palming his face, eyes closed, and Castiel keeps talking. He keeps listing the reasons why he has to leave the bunker to understand why the devil is on Earth and why Dean has to take care of him in his absence. He really just wants to kick Castiel's ass out and be done with it.

“I'm not asking Sam 'cause I know it would make you angry” he continues, “you're the only one left. Please Dean, I need to go or I will never-”.

“Fuck, I'll do it okay!” he snaps, taking distance from him. “Just shut up!”

Castiel sighs, his eyes never leaving him. He knows he's been asking a lot, but how can Dean not understand? Lucifer's liberation is a sign; no creature could have ever done that. The only one capable is God. Only God could have let him out and confined him in a vessel, taking away most of his Grace.

This could be a message and if it's God's, He had _wanted_ Castiel to find Lucifer that day; there's no other explanation to the force, the emotion that had led him to Nick's house.

There's a reason for all of this and he can't just sit in the bunker and wait for it to magically come to him. He has to go, even if it means he'll have to ask his brothers.

“Dean, I'm...” he begins, feeling guilty for no reason, “If I still had my wings, I wouldn't be asking this of you”.

Dean doesn't look at him. He tries to calm himself, breathing deep. “I know”.

Sam's been listening from the library doorstep. He didn't even tried reasoning with Dean because, first of all, he knows his brother would have accepted (again) because he can't really say no to Cass (like always) and then because he wants to talk to the angel in private.

“He's still adjusting to his human form, so he won't be of any danger” Castiel explains. “He doesn't understand your language and even in Enochian he speaks like an infant”.

“Well then go insert friggin' English in his melon. I need him to understand me when I'll threat him!”

“Why would you ever threat him?!”

Sam sighs. Again.

After another discussion on why Dean must not hurt or insult the devil, Castiel leaves the room, directed to the dungeons.

Sam quickly follows him. When they are far enough from Dean's hearing, “Cass, wait!” he calls.

Castiel stops and turns. Sam can see he's worried and maybe a little pissed because Dean has to be a bitch about everything even if he always ends up to do what they ask him. “Yes?”

Sam stops, opens his mouth and starts oscillating on his foots. “I wanted to ask you, I mean...” why is he scared to ask? Fuck. “How's he?”

“He?”

“Lucifer”.

Castiel blinks. “As I said to your brother, Lucifer never had a human form, so it's taking longer for his mind to grasps reality” he says. “But he's good. He will be soon”.

“You seem so calm about it”.

“Why shouldn't I?”

“Because we're talking about Satan?”

He gazes at Sam, his mouth a thin, hard line. “Millions of years are passed since Lucifer had been caged. I wasn't even born yet, how can I hate him just because my brothers did?”

“But isn't he like, the cause of everything? He made Eve eat the apple”.

“Sam, I'm not saying that he didn't do anything wrong” he comes closer, lowering his voice. “But no one is better than him. Not me, not angels, not humans. I had doubts and I disobeyed too. We all have wronged, in one way or another”.

Sam smiles. “I see your point. _Let he who is without sin cast the first stone_ ”.

Castiel returns the smile. “I'm glad you understand”, then he adds “I would appreciate if you could keep an eye on Dean. If Lucifer wakes up for real, I don't want him to feel in danger. I need him to trust me, at least” then he's walking again towards the stairs. Sam follows. “I didn't talk about it with Dean, but I think my Father is behind this”.

Sam opens his eyes wider. “God freed Lucifer?”

“It's the only explanation. There must be a higher motive, and He trusts us with Lucifer”.

“Why didn't you told this to Dean?”

They arrive in front of the dungeon's entrance. Castiel stops because he knows Sam can't follow him down. “Your brother is not really a fan of God, as he likes to say”.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, you're probably right”. Then “was it like this for you?” he asks, “when you first possessed Jimmy”.

“No, it wasn't” he passes a hand on his light beard, thinking. “If I'd have to explain it in human terms, I'd say that an Archangel's Grace is like the planet Bellatrix, and mine is like the moon” he says. “The bigger the Grace, the more painful is it to confine into a vessel, especially because Nick's not you”.

Sam frowns. “How would you explain God then?”

Castiel thinks and his gaze is lost somewhere Sam's mind could never even imagine.

“God's the Universe. And he's infinite”.

Then he looks at Sam again, and his eyes are sad, like every time he talks about his absent Father. “Death is a black hole that will one day swallow the Universe whole, with all his planets and systems”.

He opens the metal door and goes down, leaving Sam alone.

Dean shouts from the corridor asking if he wants to have breakfast but Sam's not hungry any more.

 

 

 

That night Dean goes to find their famous guest.

He hasn't seen him since the first day 'cause Cass has done all the work (and it's damn right since he's his brother), and now he has to clean the Devil's shit. Lucky him.

Sam had prepared a hot soup because “he can't eat sandwiches forever!” and Dean had put it in a plastic glass with a green straw, so he could drink it without his help.

The first thing he notices when he enters, is the smell. He grimaces, turning the lights on.

Lucifer is chained in the middle of the room, lying in the fetal position, and the moment the light hit his poor eyes he shuts them tight, moaning. Dean sneers.

There is a bucket near him. He takes it (Lucifer doesn't even notices) without looking at what's inside (he could puke right now) and leaves a clean one.

He inspects him with his eyes: his pants are not pissed, so he supposes he's good enough.

Lucifer hisses again, like he's in pain, and puts a hand on his right hip. Dean raises an eyebrow.

Whatever.

Just as Dean is leaving the soup in front of him, Lucifer opens his eyes, blinking hard. Those icy irises block him on the spot and he can feel a shiver running down his spine. Fuck, he's not afraid. He's not the one in chains.

Lucifer is still gazing at him, his expression unreadable, and then “Michael” he moans.

Time freezes for Dean.

Did Satan just mistaken him for his brother?

No fucking way.

“Michael” he goes again and Dean snaps. “I'm not that stupid dick!”

Lucifer moves a little, trying to sit up and it's obvious that he's suffering.

His ankles are burning. He looks up at his brother Michael because surely he's going to help him. He always does.

He offers Michael his hand, knuckles scratched and red, sobbing.

Dean is feeling really uncomfortable. “Dude, I'm not your brother!”

Lucifer furrows his brows. That's not his brother voice. He would recognize it anywhere.

“Are you a vessel?” he asks, and then shuts up. What kind of language is he talking? He reminds him of something so far away in his memory he can't really reach.

“Where's Castiel?” he asks again. “Where's Michael?”

Then he has a glimpse, and he's in pain again seeing Michael, beautiful in his armour, penetrating his right hip with his horrible sword that is soaked in his golden divine essence. His blood.

He growls and instinctively tries to jump on Dean who backs away, surprised.

Lucifer is sweating and his eyes are crazed, looking everywhere but at him now. “What have you done to me?” he cries out. “Why, Brother? Why?!”

Tears starts to stream violently down his pale face reminding Dean so much of Castiel when he cries, of Sam when he was just a little boy, of every innocent victim he has taken away in his life.

Dean just can't take it. He turns the lights off and runs straight for the stairs.

When he closes the doors, he can still hear the Devil's crying.

 

 

 

Sam’s in the library when he hears Dean running towards his room and slamming the door shut.

Did something happened? He gets up and goes to him, knocking twice. “Dean?”

No answer.

“Dean, are you okay?”

He hears footsteps but nothing else.

Sam doesn't understand what could have happened now for his brother to react like this, but he knows better than to force Dean to talk when he's in this kind of mood.

Was Lucifer the problem?

His gaze falls on the corridor that leads to the dungeon. Dean won't come out of his room till morning. He could check. Just check.

A minute, even less.

Only if Lucifer is asleep, of course.

And Castiel had asked him to. So he's not doing anything wrong.

He grabs his phone from the library and then, silently, takes the stairs to the dungeons. The lights are off so he tries to orientate himself. He won't risk turning them on.

The dungeons are cold and smell like shit, but everything's quiet. He stops, touching the wall with his hands. Then he hears a soft snoring.

He tries to illuminate the room a little with his phone's screen, walking till he finds the base of the chains. Then he sees him.

Lucifer is sleeping, a pained expression on his face; he's curled up on the floor, shaking, his blond hair dirty and stuck with old blood on his forehead. Castiel was right, he does look like a baby; powerless, alone, fragile. Sam imagines he could snap his neck right now and Lucifer could do nothing to save himself. He wouldn't even notice, probably.

At the same time he can easily see himself liberating him from his chains, giving Satan the gift of freedom again and bathing forever in his gratitude.

Sam stops, blinking. No, it can't be; this emotions he's feeling are just because he's his vessel. He went down just because he was curious, for research purposes.

He bites his lips, hesitant, and then he kneels down on the dirty pavement, grabbing out his phone to take a photo of Lucifer. The lights illuminates for a second all around the weak figure, but he doesn't wake.

When Sam goes to his room again he feels a hole in his chest. He should really rest.

Instead he takes the blanket from his bed and goes to the dungeons again, covering the Devil with it. Because it's really cold, winter is coming and he's almost human now. He could die like this.

Sam comes back to his room with the intention of sleeping for a week. He tries, but all he does is toss and turn in bed. He can't stop thinking about the fact that they have an ancient divine creature chained up in their bunker and are treating him like shit.

He can't associate the image of that man, that _human_ with the one of the Evil incarnate, as everyone describe him.

He gives up around four in the morning and goes to the library, printing the photo he took of Lucifer and putting it at the head of the first page of the notebook he bought. The lights of the flash had made his pale skin looks even paler, two purple circle under his closed eyes and his mouth red and scratched like fresh, bloody meat. He seems miserable.

Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was taking in, Sam starts writing his notes from the first day to that specific night, adding as many details as he can remember.

Research purposes, he repeats to himself.

 

 

 

 

“The fuck did you do?”

Sam goes still. He places the gun he's cleaning on the table, looking at the small scratches incised on the dark wood. There's no reason to act like he's surprised by this.

“Will you let me explain?”

“You went down there”.

Sam closes his eyes. He knows exactly how this conversation is going to end, because everything revolves around one specific point; Sam must be far from Satan.

Because, as their father used to say, Sam's mind is weak; he could be easily influenced to say the big “ _Yes”_ , 'cause he had demon blood in his veins. Maybe he still has, who knows?

That's why Dean forced him to quit hunting, at least for a while, treating him like a wild animal most of the time. Sam can't tolerate it anymore.

He could easily take the gun now and shoot on the floor. He'd love to do it. Just to scare Dean a little. To make him shut the fuck up for one time.

He feels his left hand trembling; the cold metal is just a few centimetres from his fingertips and Sam's going to do it, he really is, just-

The phone rings.

He moves his hand from the table to his legs, rubbing it on the jeans.

Dean shoots him a look, then gets the phone to his ear, moving out of the library. “Cas?” he says, voice still tense.

Sam exhales, resting his head on his open palm. He can still hear the deep voice of his brother mumbling on the phone. It's all so frustrating.

“I knew this would happen, I fucking knew it” Dean is hissing now. “When are you going to come back?”

Sam can almost hear Castiel's voice answering “but I've only been gone two days”, but Sam knows what he would really want to say is “two days and you're already complaining?”

Dean is pacing the hall, a hand on his eyes. “You know, Garth called me, asking if I could go hunt a possible Rougarou in Arkansas and I was fucking thinking about it” he doesn't like the way his voice resounds in the silence of the bunker, so he heads for his room. Fuck Sam. “But how can I trust to leave Sam alone now?”

“I understand” Cass answers. Dean can hear the roar of the car his friend's driving. “I wouldn't leave him alone with Lucifer in any case. Sam is his vessel and he's naturally attracted to his Grace”.

Dean makes a deviation and enters the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Yeah? I don't remember having all this affection for Michael”. He grabs a cold beer, loving the sensation on his warm skin.

“Because Michael hated you”.

Dean opens it, taking a sip and closing the fridge with his foot. “So you're saying Satan loves Sam”.

“Yes, because he's not fully conscious. Things may change later”.

He shuts the door of his room and throws himself on the bed, spitting a bit of beer on his sweater. Castiel keeps talking.

“You should not underestimate Lucifer just because he's weak now”.

Dean closes his eyes, imagining Castiel with his slender hand gripping the dark brown steering wheel, his trench coat rolled up on the passenger seat, the brights of the other cars illuminating his deep blue eyes.

“I'm not” he whispers, feeling the tension leaving his body. “Where are you?”

“Not far” Castiel sighs. Three seconds of silence. “I don't know what I'm doing, Dean”.

“Weren't you searching for, like, a sign?”

“That was my idea but, truth is, I'm just misleading myself” in Dean's mind, Castiel is biting his lower lips. “One thing I should have learned by now, is that you can find God only if he wants to be found”.

Dean blinks. “God? I thought you were searching for one of your brothers?”

Castiel opens his mouth, then closes it again after two seconds; the huff of air coming out of his mouth in the cold air of the car steams up the phone's screen.

“You could have told me, you know” Dean says.

“I didn't want to hear you telling me it's stupid”.

“I never told you that it’s stupid”.

“Yes, you have. Multiple times”.

Dean smiles with the corner of his mouth. “Okay, maybe I did” he lets Cass win this. “But now I think it was the most logical thing for you to do”.

“Thank you” Castiel whispers. Did he smiled while doing it? “But it's useless. I should be there with you two, helping”.

The room is warm and Dean's tired. He could easily fall asleep now, listening to Castiel talking with his low voice. He hasn't sleep so well after Lucifer was brought to them. “I can take care of this” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

“I'm coming back. Give me two days” Castiel decides. Dean hears the wheels drifting.

“I can take care of Sammy” he feels his consciousness slowly leaving him...

“I know you can” in his mind, Castiel smiles on the phone. “Goodnight, Dean”.

But he doesn't hang up, and Dean falls asleep before doing it.

For the next two hours Castiel listens to his friend's soft snoring, accompanying him through the shrouded darkness of the road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I'm just a prison of property_

_buckets full of better misery_

_there's not a word_

_for what I want_

_to do to_

_you_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [You and me and the devil makes 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mi7DV1p-_zQ)  
>  So, here we are. I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks again to my beta. She's really helpful and supportive!  
> You may have already understood it but this fic is kind of a slow burn. I'm really focused on the Sam/Lucifer story but the Destiel's part are just writing themselves. Sorry not sorry!   
> Thanks for all your comments! Let me know what you think.  
> See ya soon!


	3. Cupid carries a gun

 

 

 

 

Castiel comes back two days before Lucifer's awakens.

He tells the brothers the same things he said to Dean on the phone two night before; if God wants to show up, he will. Searching the globe for him isn't Castiel's mission anymore.

He decides he will stay with them for now, then “So you don't have to take care of my brother for me” he smiles to Dean, faithful, patting his shoulder one time. Then he goes down to the dungeons “to see how he's doing” and Dean knows he won't like it.

When Castiel switches the lights off and they flickers on the lost face of Lucifer, he feels stuck to the ground. His brother is watching the light-bulb, silent, confused.

The stone below him has a dark spot and smells of human urine (it wasn't really cleaned) and his cheeks are slightly hollow. It seemed like he hasn't sleep in a while. His legs and arms so bruised it seems to Castiel they will never heal.

His fingertips are itching. He hesitates for a few seconds, then brings his finger to Lucifer's forehead, reaching his brother with his Grace and healing his injuries, quickly backing away after.

Castiel blinks.

Lucifer's face is less pale now, and looks more _alive_ , but the colours on his wrists are still here, more vibrant than before: purple, green, black; even a little yellow. And his ankles too.

He tries again, touching his head, but there's nothing left to heal. Not for Castiel.

He doesn't understand. Is this God's will too? For Lucifer to keep his scars?

Lucifer’s gaze finally lands on him, probably feeling different, and hesitates a little on Castiel's face. “Sam” he whispers with reverence. “Samuel”.

Castiel sighs. “I'm sorry” he says, meaning it. Then he notices a small blanket just behind Lucifer; he immediately recognizes it. “I'll bring you a pillow or something” he decides, going up again.

He leaves the lights on this time.

His rage comes up again the moment he sees Dean going to his room. Castiel quickly reaches him grabbing his shoulder, facing him. “I thought I could trust you”.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” and Castiel knows he's lying.

“You would have let him rot in here”.

Dean grabs Castiel's hand and moves it away, rough. “Did you expect me to feed Satan grapes and to wash him with oils or something?”

Castiel tightens his lips. “You can't put away your emotions for a damn moment. This was a bad idea from the start” and he makes to go away, but Dean “Are you really teaming up with the fucking Devil?” spits out.

“I told you this could be a sign from my Father” Castiel hisses in return, “that I've been waiting so long for this, and what do you do? You don't care”.

“It's not like I fucking beat him!”

But Castiel isn't listening anymore. “You think He would have left him for me to kill him?” the veins on his neck are burning from the inside. “You think God would have left his most loved Son to _us_ for treat him like this? No” he shakes his head. “He choose us, He choose _me_ because He knows I would understand, that I'm the only one who would have shown mercy!”

Dean snorts. “Yeah? You so sure about that?”

Castiel feels like he's going to explode. “I am”.

“Do you have proof?” Dean gets closer to him. “Huh? Do you? Because all we know is that you found him somewhere. God's left no message for us. Satan could have escaped from the Cage and in a few days we could be all dead. But do you care?” he hisses. “Do you really care for Lucifer? For us? Or are you only thinking about pleasing your fucking Father?”

Their faces are just a few centimetres away. Dean can feel Castiel's contained breath on his mouth.

He wets his lips. Castiel remains still, looking straight into his eyes.

“You don't mean it” he whispers. Dean clenches his fists.

He surpasses Castiel; he makes a few steps and the angel closes his eyes just before Dean punches the wall, grunting. Castiel sighs.

He waits until he hears the door slamming, making the air around him vibrating.

 

 

Two days passes and the bunker is silent, the air tense.

Dean is still mad at Castiel and his brother.

Castiel keeps himself busy, surfing the internet for possible omens and meditating for the rest of the day. And night.

Sam writes on his black notebook. He doesn't talk with anyone.

That's why they all heard Lucifer's scream. It's the first noise they all hears in days.

It's like a lightning breaking in the sky of the Winchester's life because the very instant they hears it, they know it's different from the devil's usual crying. They know something's changed.

Lucifer isn't in pain; his scream is rough, full of rage, it breaks through Sam's brain like a sword. He's in his room when he hears it and his first instinct is to run, run as far as possible and hide. Because there will be no mercy. Not even for him.

Castiel is the first that runs towards the dungeons, closing the big metal door behind him; he wants to be the first and only for now.

Dean runs out of his room and finds himself in front of the closed door. Confused, he tries to force it open. When he understands the situations, he smashes his closed fist on the cold metal. “Cass!” he shouts. “Open this fucking door or I swear I'll fucking cut your head off!”

Sam comes behind him, slowly but still alarmed. “What's happening?” he asks his brother, but in his soul he already knows. Dean doesn't say anything for a few seconds, then he kicks the door, trying to remember where the fuck he put the crowbar. “Lucifer's awake”.

 

 

Castiel is so nervous he could make the whole Bunker explode in the fraction of a second.

He descends the stairs one by one, chin in the air and gaze determined. Chains are rattling on the floor, a deep voice is cursing and grunting.

The lights goes on when he lifts a finger in the air. When Castiel turns around the corner that separates the stone staircase with the main room of the dungeons, everything goes in slow motion. There's no sound in his ears; nothing else in his mind.

Everything resolves around the figure sat in the middle of the room, like a Sun in a solar system and every one on Earth, every angel in Heaven, everyone's just turning and falling, falling, falling...

Because when Castiel sees Lucifer, he's really _seeing_ him. Even if his Grace is so small in confront of Castiel's, even if he's filthy, bloody, miserable, he's _everything_ that Heaven has ever missed.

The little Grace he still has is embracing all the confines of his vessel, from the tip of his fingertips to the roundness of his knees and the soft light he's emanating it's so sweet for Castiel's eyes and senses, so poisoning... He doesn't even sees the dull of his blond hair or the intense blue stare Lucifer's giving him. He can't can't just _can't_.

It's intoxicating. Castiel lifts his hands to his face and covers his eyes and it all seems so slow, too slow, his head's spinning and his legs are so weak he could stumble down and never get up again.

“Who are you?” Lucifer whispers and Castiel finally, after eons of futile existence, he _finally_ understands why his brother has been cast down to the deepest level of the Pit. Why did God even permit the creation of such a perfect creature? A creature who is so superb and evil at the same time. Why? Why did He want it to be? Was it a punishment for all angels, to see such beauty and having it seen awfully tainted? Was it a lesson? Or was it a creation God had made for his Own senses, contrary to all his beliefs? Did it hurt for Him, to imprison Lucifer and knowing He will never rejoice again of his graceful presence?

Questions; so many questions in Castiel's mind.

Lucifer, a stranger to the angel's struggle, observes him with caution. He can recognize in Castiel the same Grace that has healed him, even if he doesn't know from what he has been healed exactly.

Everything is cold; his feet, his hands, and the air around him. He understands it's not cold like the Cage is, but now it feels just the same.

The Cage.

Like a glimpse in his mind, Lucifer starts to yanks again the chains and the friction of the metal against the slim skin of his wrists _hurts_.

Castiel seems to regain consciousness with the noise Lucifer's making. He blinks, walking in front of the angel but not getting any closer. “Brother” he says, wearing a worried expression. “You seem to be better”.

Lucifer tightens his eyes. “You call me brother but I don't know who you are”.

“And you seem to have fully grasped the human language” Castiel continues, “That's good”. He makes a step. Just one. “I'm Castiel”. He gives a look around the room and spots the pillow and blanket they had given Lucifer; he had probably throw them away. “I was created after your Fall”.

“I see that you share my destiny” Lucifer notices, a small light in his little eyes. “Is that the reason you freed me from my prison?”

Castiel clenches his hands. “I fell, but my story is very different from yours. I'm not the one who opened the Cage”.

Lucifer closes his eyes, stretching his neck. The sound of his bones snapping echoes in the air. “Who did, then? We are on Earth, I guess”.

Castiel nods. “That's what I'm trying to understand. You don't remember entering this vessel?”

“Pain” Lucifer's eyes still closed. “Only pain. I don't record any other change in my eternity”.

Castiel sigh. This just confirms his hypothesis about God. “Well, you're right, you are on Earth now. I found you in your vessel's house”.

“And your brought me where?”

“In a safe place”.

“Safe for me?”

“It may be hard for you to believe, but yes” Castiel says before hearing a noise from upstairs. “I don't know what our Brothers would have done if they had found you before me, especially in the state you are now”.

“Yes, I can feel this body is still adjusting to my essence” Lucifer moves, trying to find a better position to sit without the shackles brushing his skin. “When I'll fully recover my Grace, these will be useless, I think you know it. But you don't have to fear anything” he locks his eyes with Castiel's. “I like you”.

Castiel passes a hand on his mouth. His brother is trying to enchant him with words, like everyone would expect from the Serpent. “You won't recover” he spills out, his voice lower. “Your Grace has been mostly taken away. I suppose you're not aware of it because your higher senses are clouded, but this _stretching_ you're feeling...” he lose himself in Lucifer's confused expression for a second. “You're becoming human”.

Lucifer eyes seems to lights up even more, their blue so _electric_ Castiel feels like he has never seen this colour on another human ever. His lips are slightly parted, suddenly pale like his feature, but he doesn't say anything. Three seconds pass and to Castiel seems like a lifetime then Lucifer snorts. His gaze moves to the floor just before he starts to laugh hysterically. The sound invades Castiel's ears, sharp like a crystal but full and caustic.

All of a sudden Castiel hears the same noise from before. He blinks. Are the Winchesters really trying to break in?

“I know this might be a shock but I need you to understand” Castiel continues; Lucifer is watching him again, the ghost of a smile on his face. “This is your current condition and I'm willing to help you adapting”.

“Help? From you?” Lucifer laughs. “This, this is-” his gaze spaces for a second, “you are a liar. There's no other explanation. Or this is just an illusion my Father is making me suffer through” he tightens his eyes. “But why now? Why did He get creative after so many eons of darkness?”

“Lucifer, this is real-”

“What did you call me?” Lucifer instantly snaps, eyes wide.

Castiel goes still. “Lucifer”.

His brother inspires deep and noisy, like he's been too long without air; tears start to form in his eyes. He opens his mouth but a sudden crashing sound stops him from saying whatever he wanted to say. “Castiel!” a rough voice shouts from upstairs.

The angel's nostrils flares. “Dean, not now”.

“What the fu-”

“ **Not now!** ” Castiel finally shouts, exasperated, and the strong sound of his voice pervades the entire bunker. Then everything falls silent.

Time passes and all he can hear is the rapid beating of a heart. Then Dean's heavy steps walking away; Castiel sighs, tired.

He turns to face Lucifer again but a light voice interrupts him for the second time. “Cas? Is everything okay?”

Lucifer's gaze immediately passes on the stairs behind Castiel and he can see his Grace reacting, vibrating. “Who's there?” Lucifer asks.

“No one” Castiel feels like he could just leave now and forget about everything and everyone, but he knows he's not really thinking it; he's just tired. So very tired.

He reconnects with his surroundings; Sam is not going to meet Lucifer now. It would only be worse and Dean would eat him alive. Again.

“Think about what I told you” he quickly says to his brother before going away.

Lucifer doesn't try to stop him.

 

 

The trio doesn't talk until the evening of that same day.

It starts with Castiel. He goes and sits down at one of the library's table; waiting, patiently, tipping the table with a finger. Sam passes two minutes later, an open book in his hand and his concentration on it; then he sees Castiel and, like he knows exactly what his friend is waiting for, he puts the volume again in his place on the shelf (it's _The Infernal Dictionary_ by M. Collin de Plancy) and sits in front of the angel. They avoid eyes contact.

Castiel clicks his tongue behind his teeth and “why were you reading that book?” asks.

Sam blinks. “What?”

“I bet you know every word of every book on demonology ever written. Why are you reading it again?” he can feel Sam rubbing his hands under the table.

“I thought it may be useful. I was checking a few things again”.

“Useful for who? Lucifer?”

“I didn't say that”.

Castiel sighs; he's doing that a lot these days. “We had a talk, not so long ago. What I said to you wasn't supposed to give you a free pass for meeting him. You know it's dangerous”.

“I don't need a _pass_ for doing what I think is right. He was asleep and I just checked on him because Dean doesn't give a fuck if Lucifer is hurt, or dying or whatever” Sam hisses. “I'm not stupid, Cass, I don't need you or my brother to be behind everything I do!”

“I think you do need us now more than ever” Castiel breaths out, gravely. “Lucifer recognized your presence today. He's not going to give up”.

Sam frowns. “What? Give up what?”

They hear a door closing and the sound of boots coming from the hall. They wait 'till Dean appears in their vision; he's wearing old clothes and they're mostly wet. He was probably washing the car.

“What's this? Family reunion?” he spits. “I think you forgot someone”.

“Dean”. Castiel looks right at him, his expression unreadable; Dean swallows whatever grudge he was keeping and goes to them, placing himself in front of the table, his palms open on it.

He doesn't sit. Castiel didn't expect him to.

“Before whatever the fuck this is starts, I want to say that I don't understand you two. Not even a little bit” Dean says, trying to seem indifferent.

Castiel nods, wetting his lips. “Thank you for the warning, Dean” he says, ironically. “I just want to let you know” he gestures at the brothers with his right hand, “that I'm thinking about taking Lucifer away”.

“What?” Sam instantly snaps. “Where?”

“I don't know yet, but I can find a place. A safe one”.

“And what the hell are you going to do with him?” Dean says, incredulous.

“I'll try to make him reas-”

“You can't take him away!” Sam's can't believe what he's hearing. “This is crazy!”

“Why the fuck do you even care?” Dean barks. “Did you talk with him?!”

“I didn't!” he grips the table. “But we can't let him going around with Lucifer in the back of the car! We don't know if someone is searching for him or if up there they even knows!”

Dean's looking at his brother like he wants to punch him, and that's probably right. “You know, that's a good idea. We should pray to Michael and give Lucifer to him or to whoever lobby boy he sends us and be done with this damn thing!”

“Are you nuts?!” Sam shouts, “Giving Lucifer to Heaven is like putting his head on a spike!”

“And why the fuck should we care?!”

The light-bulb of the chandelier above their heads suddenly explodes, making the brothers gasp and sending glass and sparks on the trio. Silence, again.

Castiel stretch his hands, joining them together. “Thank you for your attention” he whispers. “Now, Sam, why do you think we should keep Lucifer in the bunker?”

Sam swallows. “Because it's the safest place you can find. Here we can study him, keep him under control and avoid any possible disaster outside”.

“You intend to... study him?” Castiel repeats.

“Since he's immortal, I think it would be wise to leave a Man of Letters report on him, because we don't have one. It could be useful in a future where we aren't there to help” he whispers.

Castiel bites his lips, thinking. “That's right, I like this idea” he says. His gaze falls on the other hunter, who's still standing in front of the table, arms crossed on his chests and face red from suppressing his rage. “Dean” Castiel calls him, since he's not looking at the angel. “What do you think, please?”

Dean shuts his eyes, moving a bit on his feet; he opens his mouth and expires. “You told me I should keep Sam far from _him_ ”.

Castiel nods. “That's right, I did”.

“Then why are we fighting over keeping Satan with us or not?” he spits, but without raising his voice. “I am really not understanding shit there”.

“I admit I may have been a little _scatter-brained_ ” he says and Dean snorts. “But this situation isn't simple for neither of us. I need to protect Lucifer while I wait for God to give me another sign” he wets his lips, raising his eyes to meet Dean's. “At the same time, I don't want to give you trouble any more. That's why I thought about leaving the bunker”.

“Did you talk with him?” Sam asks. “With Lucifer”.

Castiel nods. “He didn't believe me at first, when I told him he's becoming human. But he's calm” he explains. “That's how my brothers always described him. Silent and lethal as a serpent”.

“How cute”.

“I want to make him understand” Castiel continues, ignoring Dean's comment, “that his best option is to stick with us. He knows nothing about Earth or humanity, since his last time goes back to when Cain was still alive”.

“Great job so far, since we're keeping him chained up in a shitty dungeon” Sam snorts.

“And” Castiel glares at him, “I want to take him outside. Not far. He's been caged for millions of years, and I think he would appreciate it”.

“So basically you're improvising a rehab for Satan”.

“Dean” Castiel hisses. “Do you have an opinion on all of this that doesn't resolve around sarcastic jokes or curses?”

“I thinks this is insane”.

“But it's also real”.

Dean sighs, closing his eyes. When he reopens them he starts chewing on his tongue. Castiel knows Dean is fighting with his first instincts and he's really thinking about their current situation.

“I don't want him near Sam” he affirms, at last. “I don't want him going out alone. Everything else, is on you” he points a finger at Castiel, who nods. “Thank you, Dean” he breaths out. Then he tests his fortune again before it's too late. “Tomorrow morning I'll take Lucifer outside and talk to him. In the meantime, could you put a bed or something down there?”

“Yeah, whatever”. Castiel smiles.

Sam gets up then, his face a bit tense. “I'm gonna make something to eat”.

“Oh God please, don't” Dean whines. Sam rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen.

He waits until his brother's footsteps are out of his hearing, then Dean grabs Castiel's collar, making him hit the table with his back; their faces are just a few centimetres away from one another, their breaths the only sound in the warm room. Castiel's eyes are wide and intense but he's not surprised. He looks determined, his lips tight and the veins on his neck visible and a light shade of green.

“I'm trusting you here” Dean hisses, his voice so low only Castiel could have heard it. “Don't make me regret it”. He can even see a little bit of drool coming out from the edge of Dean's mouth; a small, white scar near it. When did he get it?

“And I am grateful, Dean” Castiel whispers. “Don't ever think otherwise”.

The hunter glares at him one last time before letting go. Castiel can hear him mumbling something like “the death of me” and a very clear “shit” before leaving the library.

 

 

 

 

Castiel takes Lucifer out at five in the morning. He wants to make him see the sunset.

Dean hates getting up this early but at least Sam's still sleeping and he doesn't have to worry about him, so he goes in one of the many guests room they have and waits 'till the other two go out; he promised Castiel he could arrange something like a decent bedroom in the dungeons.

Castiel in the same moment is putting shackles around Lucifer's wrist, mumbling a few sorry. “It's for precautions” he explains. Lucifer doesn't talk.

He escorts his brother out of the dungeons, always walking behind him; Castiel has a gun and his angel blade, but he's sure he won't need to use them.

They walk down the corridor that leads to the main entrance. Lucifer watches everything around him, even the floor, with voracious curiosity, but doesn't ask anything.

“Up the stairs” Castiel points him. Lucifer keeps walking, his chin up, and concentrates on the sound his shoes (all ruined and filthy) make when they hit the metal of the first rung.

But they're not alone. Sam is hiding behind the wall in front of the staircase.

He couldn't sleep; the thought of seeing Lucifer _awake_ just wouldn't abandon him. What's wrong with a little peak? Better satisfying this need now than later.

He concentrates on reality again when he hears the two angels coming up the stairs. _So little distance between them_. Just a few meters between Satan and his true vessel. A shiver goes up his spine.

 _My God_ , he hasn't felt like this in months. Maybe a year. Probably since he stopped hunting.

Sam spies a little, trying not to alert Castiel; he sees his friend back while he's opening the door.

Then his gaze falls on the man behind him, who's waiting patiently. Lucifer is tall and even if merely a human he emanates an aura of power so strong Sam could almost see it, and it's not because he was an Archangel; it's his attitude, his way of standing, the way he looks at Castiel trying to open a door, like he could do it better even if he hasn't even see a door in his whole existence. Like he could do _everything_ better than anyone.

Then Lucifer head snaps like he's hearing Sam's thoughts and their eyes locks. Sam feels his ears ringing and _cold_ , so cold like he's been drained up of all his blood and he can't help the look of surprise he's probably showing right now. It's like he has been dead all this years and when those eyes _(blue_ , he remembers they are blue) finally set on him with gravity like Lucifer wants to fuck him or kill him and bath in his blood or both, he's alive again.

He should feel fear and he does, but not as one would expect. Lucifer frowns like he recognize Sam, but how? He can't even begin to think about what could be passing in the Devil's mind at this exact moment. Sam's feeling like he's naked because Lucifer _sees_ him like there are no barriers between them; no walls, no corpses, nothing. Just souls. Like he's looking directly at his soul.

Then Castiel opens the door and Sam quickly hides again. He waits until he hears it shutting and then keeps waiting for a few minutes, until he's sure they're not coming back.

At last, he breathes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_he had those crow black eyes_

_starless_

_but he fucks like a comet_

_laid as still as a bible_

_and it felt like_

_revelations_

_when I looked inside_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the waiting! We had some problems.  
> Hope you liked it.
> 
>  
> 
> [Cupid carries a gun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSMj1C9B_JY)


End file.
